A Spite Note to Tallahassee

Dear Tallahassee,

I do not like you. I understand you’re trying to win me over with your tawdry shows of azaleas and camellias, but I am unmoved. Everything is dusted in yellow, and my stepson breaks out in hives if he opens the front door.
You had your chance to win me last June.  You had your chance, and instead you folded me into unbike-able hills laced with roads that ramble aimlessly from one boarded up shopping plaza to another.  You tossed me into bizarre traffic patterns, into a town frothing with college sports, complete with wasted eighteen-year-olds throwing up on my lawn.

So now that your listless attempt at wooing me back has failed, you lean heavy on petty revenge, these mosquitoes and crisp evenings.  I will get by on hating you, portioning out my spite by the teaspoon.  I will smuggle in south Florida to feed my contempt fruit by fruit: mango, avocado, pineapple. 

And one day, Tallahassee, I will be free of your football cult, your vindictive chains of no U-turn signs, your thinly-veiled backwater mentality.  One day, Tallahassee, I will leave.

One thought on “A Spite Note to Tallahassee”

  1. And Portland will be waiting for you, with hair of colors that nature only intended for flowers and poisonous frogs, retired teenagers, delicious foods, independent coffee houses and bike lanes everywhere, and the open arms of friends.


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